


what might have been

by iceprinceofbelair



Series: snakebites [2]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Kaer Morhen, Protective Eskel (The Witcher), Witcher Jaskier | Dandelion, Young Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:34:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24629383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iceprinceofbelair/pseuds/iceprinceofbelair
Summary: Jaskier begins his new life at Kaer Morhen. Sort of.
Relationships: Eskel & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Series: snakebites [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1756888
Comments: 7
Kudos: 164





	what might have been

**Author's Note:**

> hello friends! i'm so happy y'all enjoyed the first part of this. i have an incredibly vague idea of where i'm going with this (i.e. i have like 3 scenes planned out for the Distant Future) but i just gotta. get there.

Geralt is on his third lap of the Killer when he hears the distant sound of approaching hooves and freezes, ears pricked. He keeps his weight back on his right foot, ready to spring into action should their visitor turn out to be someone unwelcome. Geralt knows what happened at Gorthur Gvaed though, strictly speaking, he isn’t _supposed_ to know. It’s not his fault Vesemir talks so loudly when Geralt happens to be eavesdropping. Given what he’s heard about the siege and its consequences, he’s understandably on guard. In Geralt’s twelve years of experience, wolves rarely return to the keep this early in the season.

The hoofbeats grow louder and faster and Geralt picks up a familiar scent, feeling his lips tug up at the corners in something resembling a smile. Eskel.

Abandoning the Killer, Geralt starts picking his way through unfamiliar forest towards the approaching witcher in absolute silence, dancing over leaves and branches with practiced ease. He draws closer, glimpsing the echoes of motion marking Eskel’s trail through the trees. Geralt holds his breath and darts up a tree that Eskel will have to pass soon if he’s to continue to Kaer Morhen. Geralt tries not to grin. He is absolutely going to win this round.

But, as Eskel and Luath start to appear in glimpses between the thick branches, Geralt stalls. Because Eskel has someone else with him. A boy. A witcher boy. Geralt frowns and lets out a soft, confused breath which instantly has Eskel’s hackles rising. Luath comes to a stop as Eskel scents the air and Geralt, knowing he’s been caught, curses.

“Not bad, Geralt,” Eskel laughs as Geralt drops down out of the tree in front of Luath, startling the horse for only a moment before the greedy creature starts nosing around Geralt’s clothes for treats. “You’re getting quieter. I almost didn’t see you.”

Geralt grunts. “I was surprised.”

“Yes,” Eskel says seriously, urging Luath on while Geralt falls into step beside him. Close up, Geralt can see that he does, indeed, have a child settled on the saddle in front of him, wrapped in Eskel’s winter cloak and held protectively to his chest. “This is Jaskier. Found him halfway through the Grasses in the woods.”

Geralt frowns. “A Viper?”

This time, it’s Eskel who’s surprised. “Did that second round of mutations make you psychic?” He teases but he looks a little unsettled all the same.

“I heard Vesemir talking about it,” Geralt says, doing his best not to give himself away by smelling guilty but Eskel, witcher senses or not, knows him inside and out.

“You mean you were eavesdropping.”

Geralt gives a noncommittal hum. 

“Still a man of few words, I see,” Eskel says, nodding towards Jaskier with a long-suffering sigh. “This one could learn a thing or two from you about shutting up.”

Geralt doesn’t say anything but instead studies what he can of the boy in Eskel’s arms. Most of his body is swamped by Eskel’s cloak but his head is poking out into Eskel’s chest, revealing a tangle of sweat-dampened dark hair and a pale, pinched face. His cheeks look hollow, like he hasn’t eaten in weeks. Instinctively, Geralt glances at Eskel but finds him looking as healthy as ever. 

The grasses are notorious for inducing vomiting - Geralt should know; he’s been through it twice - but Geralt doesn’t remember that feeling continuing after the trial. Perhaps the Viper school have a different formula that makes the effects last longer. Or maybe Jaskier is just sick. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Geralt asks.

Worry crinkles in Eskel’s face as he looks down at Jaskier and adjusts him slightly against him. Jaskier barely stirs, letting out a soft sound somewhere between a moan and a sigh before settling again. 

“I’m not sure,” Eskel admits quietly.

Geralt feels oddly touched that Eskel is sharing his worries with him. That’s something Geralt has always liked about Eskel though; he doesn’t treat Geralt like a child.

“I think it has something to do with the time between the Grasses and the Dreams but I really don’t know,” Eskel goes on. “We’ve never really dealt with this situation before but the humans have been getting bolder ever since the Great Cleansing. It was only a matter of time before they came for witchers.”

The surety with which Eskel says such things makes Geralt feel uneasy. Eskel doesn’t mince his words by any means but he’s not usually so candid about his concerns. Whether it’s Jaskier’s influence or because Geralt is the first person he’s been able to talk to about this, Geralt is just grateful to be kept in the loop. 

As Kaer Morhen looms into view up ahead, Geralt takes a step closer to Luath and takes his reins, looking to Eskel expectantly as he pulls the horse to a halt. The next section of the path is a dangerous ride at the best of times and Geralt wouldn’t classify ‘trying to keep a sick child alive’ as the best of times. So Eskel gathers Jaskier close to his chest and dismounts with a surprising amount of grace. Jaskier’s eyelids flutter weakly, straining to open, and he wriggles pathetically in Eskel’s arms, breathing shallow and tight. 

“Hey, shh,” Eskel soothes, swaying gently from side to side, one hand gently cupping the back of the boy’s head.

Geralt feels an unpleasant surge of jealousy as he watches. He remembers his first weeks in Kaer Morhen when night terrors and panic attacks had plagued him endlessly. He remembers crying for his mother, for his friends, for anyone. He remembers Eskel doing the same for him when he woke up shaking in the night, holding him close and warm and letting him fall asleep with his head pillowed on Eskel’s chest. 

He gives his head a firm shake. If he wants to stop being treated like a child, he needs to grow the fuck up.

Jaskier quietens and Geralt takes the lead with Luath, steadfastly refusing to look back.

By the time they arrive at the gates of the keep, Luath is snorting and stamping his hooves, trying to break free of Geralt’s grip to surge forward. Apparently it’s not only witchers who recognise _home._ Geralt strokes Luath’s nose fondly and leads him towards the stables with a nod in Eskel’s direction. He’s not sure whether he means it to be encouraging or simply an acknowledgement. 

In the stables, Geralt leads Luath to each of the occupied stalls, letting him greet old friends and introducing him to the new residents. Vesemir would probably call him soft but Geralt doesn’t think he cares. Geralt finds peace in the stables, brushing down the horses and preparing their feed. He doesn’t even mind mucking out so long as he gets to do it alone. And if he talks to the horses sometimes - well, that’s nobody’s business but his own.


End file.
